Deceit
by sovery
Summary: Some old school B/Aus based on episode 2x15. Angelus lies, and not just to Theresa.


Based on episode 2x15. Dialogue taken from the show, quote at the beginning taken from Hamlet. It seemed apropos.

* * *

_One may smile, and smile, and be a villain_

He's growing impatient. Angelus means to take his time with Buffy, of course he does, but a century trapped beneath the yoke of a soul has made him eager to have everything all at once rather than delay his own gratification in pursuit of a tempting but difficult end. He wants to wring out all the blood, the pain, the entertainment this small town has to offer and then some, and then he wants to take Angel's slayer and ravage her. He wants to hold her heart in the palm of his hand. But such delights are not easily won, and could not be won without patience. Despite his hasty behavior upon his release, he is capable of some self-control. He could master his desires, his impatience.

Buffy herself had lived that way – impatiently. Because a slayer's life was a short one, and she worried that she would die soon. She was right. He would see to that.

No, Angelus knows better than to rush things this time, no matter how tempting it is to send his girl's world toppling over completely, for how often did these things come around? A slayer in love with a vampire - delicious. He'd held himself back so far, giving her just enough time to become half-acquaintanced with the new status quo. He wants- needs- her to understand that he isn't her pathetic boyfriend but she mustn't separate the two of them entirely.

So far in _that_, at least, he's been successful. She still can't kill him. But it's only now that he's coming to understand what he wants from her. Her pain, certainly, enticing as it is, and her regard and attention, for it is only fair that he haunts her as much as she obsesses him. Her death is another matter. Oh, he has no doubt that she will die in his arms, but the outcome and circumstances of that death are still being decided. There has never been another man or demon in the situation he and Angel had been in, two entities with the same memories trapped inside the same body. Even now he couldn't quite distinguish their reactions to the memories of Buffy that were made while his insipid soul was still in control of their body. Who was it that so admired the deadly shapes she made killing his kin, who wanted to kill any boy who dared sniff at her skirts, who fixated on the memory of younger Buffy sweetly sucking on a lollipop? Some things are impossible to distinguish, and he half wishes more of the Kalderash were alive so he could kill them again. Darla had slaughtered them after he was cursed but he doubts they suffered enough. He's saving Janna for a boring day- or night.

Still, memories aside his fascination with Buffy is very real, and after blowing off a little steam, slaughtering a few dozen townspeople, tearing apart a couple of blondes, he's ready to see that fascination to its natural conclusion. At this point he's inclined to follow his whims, no matter how near the poisonous bloom of tenderness they might take him. He's not Angel. He doesn't love her. He can't.

He ought to send her a message, he thinks and sets out for the evening. A century ago flowers might have sufficed but he doubts she knows the language and those among her little coterie who might would be uninclined to explain his message to her. He dismisses the thought. Another time perhaps.

Besides, Buffy has always had a knack for misunderstanding him despite that she'd come closer to Angel than any other creature in the century he'd made mockery of Angelus' existence. She would ignore the warnings to stay apart and then ignore the timid messages of adoration his weaker half offered her. Most often it was due to insecurity. Still, Buffy might still have that habit and he wouldn't want her to misunderstand him. A bite to eat might be in order, and then he might seek out his wayward girl and see if she's missed him.

He spies a pretty young thing looking nervously over her shoulder and smiles. She looks like one of Buffy's classmates. She'll do nicely. But first, a bit of fun.

Angelus allows an aura of menace to engulf him as he follows her down the street. The girl quickly picks up on the threat he presents, her unconscious altering her mind to the possibility that there is something _right behind her_.

She turns suddenly, finding nothing but an empty sidewalk. Her heartrate is rabbit-like.

He sidles out in front of her and allows her to bump into him. She screams.

He puts on a concerned expression, idly twirling a flower he's plucked on a whim.

"Everything okay?" he asks.

She looks around fearfully, but her heartrate's is slowing. "Yeah, I just, uh, I, I thought I heard something... behind me," she says, wide-eyed.

He frowns a little, laughing inwardly and moves around her, ostensibly to have a look. Nothing to see there, and he turns back to her and tells her so.

"Oh. I guess I was wrong. I could have sworn that..." she trails off, shaking her head.

"It's okay. It can get pretty scary out here, all alone at night." He suppresses a smirk. Is it wrong to regret how _easy_ things have become? Time was, a woman would have been more scared for her virtue even if her life no longer appeared to be in jeopardy. Though he was always charming enough to allay a woman's fears. He smiles at her innocent agreement.

"Hey, don't I know you from somewhere?" he asks. "Don't you go to school with Buffy?" He can see the relief on her face. Had Buffy saved her life? She'd done something to prompt that silly relieved smile. Plenty treated the girl as their personal savior. He would know.

"Oh, you know Buffy?" she asks. He chuckles.

"Yes, I do, very well," he replies. Better than anyone, including her insipid little friends, idiotic mother, or guileless watcher. He'd devoted hours to learning her secrets, hoarding away the secret parts of herself that she gave him. He knows her like no other ever will- and not just because he'd kill any man who tried to take his place, still his though he spurns it. Shaking himself, he smiles at the girl again.

"Come on, I'll get you home," he tells her, and she follows him trustingly.

He leaves the girl's body in the loading dock area behind the Bronze, after menacing off a werewolf. That must have been what had Buffy too distracted to seek him out the past few nights. He'd attributed it to cowardice before, but is pleased she may yet prove him wrong. Of course, she ought to know that he presents much more of a danger to her little town than a mindless beast, but massacres aren't as fun as they used to be in the era before cable news.

The girl will direct Buffy's attention back to where it ought to be, and in the meantime, he can take steps to ensure that when they meet next she will be even more vulnerable to him. She is strong, and fierce, and deadly, but for all that she is just a girl. He has lured thousands of her kind to their death, and they had never loved him. She tried to entrap him with the sticky strands of her love, so it is only appropriate that he wrap them around her pretty neck and wring all the life out of her. Metaphorically speaking, that is. He doubts their final confrontation, whenever it comes, will end like that. He still dreams of that creamy throat and her love-drugged blood and he knows that it will end with his fangs in her neck. An enticing picture, he thinks, smiling at the thought. It was a pity he couldn't devote more time to her at the present, but he was a very busy vampire. And he had all the time in the world.


End file.
